


Out of the Heralding Storm

by Almoraina



Category: Original Work
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Dimensions, Angst, Asexual Character, Boats and Ships, Canon Asexual Character, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon Non-Binary Character, Canon Queer Character of Color, Destroying the Government, Draconormundis - Freeform, Dragons, Dragons are gods, Drowning, Dungeons & Dragons Inspired, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual implied smut, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug, Explosions, Fluff and Angst, Gay Male Character, Gay Panic, Gen, Government Destruction, High Fantasy, Inappropriate Humor, Kidnapping, LGBTQ Themes, Labor camp, Lesbian Character, Magic, Minor Character Death, Moral Ambiguity, Moral Dilemmas, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Nonbinary Character, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Original Mythology, Original Universe, Original World, Original work - Freeform, Out of Body Experiences, Pansexual Character, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Queer Friendly, Queer Gen, Queer Themes, Sailing, Sailors, Sapphos Would Be Proud, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Swearing, Trans Character, Useless Lesbians, fire elemental
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24159616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Almoraina/pseuds/Almoraina
Summary: For months now a hidden killer has been killing the innocent citizens of the town of Urbmare. Released into the seas from their floating home within an eternal storm, the crew of the Nautica set sail for the Illian Empire in search of the Dragon Queen. When they arrive in the empire's capital city however, information is revealed about the crew's isolated home. Join Pyre and Sapione Damadius as they uncover a tangled web of secrets and lies that runs into the deepest corners of this seemingly indestructible empire."A dark hand strikes out towards the deck as an ancient incantation is shouted through Riley's lips; their eyes no longer glowing a gentle blue, but bright with a devilish luminescence that could only be found in the fires of hell. A bright streak of light escaped from their fingers, moving like a flash of lightning in a ferocious storm. The light coalesced into a glowing ball at the center of the ship. It swirled in pause before growing and rising into the sky like a beast that had been imprisoned for eons, consuming the ship in a blast of flame that reached hungrily for everything it could grasp."
Kudos: 1





	1. Prologue

"Batten down the hatches!"

"Overhaul! Reef the sails!"

"The storm is upon us, gentle beasts. Let us ride into the chaos!"

A deep voice bellowed from behind a wooden helm, the steel bolts that tied it to the deck threatening to tear away in the violence of the Storm. Waves from the furious ocean lapped over onto the deck of the sodden vessel, soaking into the tattered clothes of Nautica's crew. Hands gripped the railing tightly as the sailors braced themselves for the worst of the Storm. The ship's captain stood tall against the roaring wings, cheeks stinging from the salt of the rain. A thick and billowing coat flew out from the crow's nest above as the ship's navigator thrust their hands out in front of themself. In a blast of light, the power of the Storm was redirected into the figure's grasp- a maelstrom of furious wind thrust the ship forward, her hull cutting through the raging waters below.

The unstoppable Storm continued around the vessel as tidal waves threw themselves onto the deck like yearning sirens as darts of rain exploded from the sky and barraged the crew. They held one another as they faced the wrath of the sea together, exchanging final words and confessions lest the Nautica succumbed to the dominating hand of the Heralding Storm. Never before had a sea vessel and her crew survived a battle against this Storm- it holding such a ferocity that its power could be compared to that of a god. The waves tore at wood and steel alike- ripping them apart like a predator's newest catch, the wind carrying away the remains.

A deafening call escaped the crow's nest as the navigator spun, their coat flying in their wake like the fins of a sea creature. Their hands glowed with the power of the Heralding Storm, it rippling out like water as they yelled to the surrounding seas. A plea escaped the figure for the ocean to grant the vessel mercy- a prayer that was... well, heralded. The massive waves that swept the deck now receded, no longer threatening to capsize the stranger in its waters. Pale hair glistening in the rain, the figure lifted their head to face the pouring skies above them, arms outstretched to the heavens. With a shout they cried in a voice that cracked in desperation but sounded with confidence.

"Rains o' her majesty! Hear me as I call t' ye! Sheath yer weapons an' carry us t' land!" Dark clouds swirled in on themselves above the ship as the Storm listened vivaciously, the rains parting ahead of Nautica like the red sea. As the sky cleared, a distant land appeared on the horizon. It was silhouetted against the sky like a shadowy figure within an inferno- mysterious and enticing. The voice that pleaded so shamelessly to the Storm now called out in victory:

"Land, ho! Salvation is upon us, good fellows!" The crew mates clung to one another below on the deck, all of their heads turning in unison to take in the sight before them. A moment of silence passed before they erupted into cheers, a few of the sailors dancing around the deck in utter joy. The Captain watched the camaraderie with a calculated look, allowing them only a few moments of celebration before silencing the crew with a command. Going back to work immediately, Nautica set forth to finish her arduous journey. Sails made of worn cotton were hoisted into the sky and tightened against the wind as the vessel glided onward towards the shore. Her crew labored with hardly contained anticipation as the distant silhouette quickly revealed herself to their gazes.

Dozens of ships crowded the bustling docks as Nautica's sails came into view from within the massive storm in the distance. Sailors moved along the docks in various fashions- some stumbled towards the small port city in search for a drink and rest. Others toiled away as they carried cargo back and forth from ship to ship. It was simply a rest stop; a place for crews to trade and resupply before continuing on with their journeys. The setting sun outlined the gleaming ships with an ethereal halo, her golden rays guiding the tired sailors to safety.

The mast of these majestic vessels rose to the heavens, sails tied closed as they rested within the bay. Wooden and metal hulls bore the marks of their homelands with pride, whether meticulously painted or carved into the ship itself. The home and the idea of one's heritage was a universal ideology. One's loyalty and past rested within the physical boundaries of the home, a sacred place that was never to be desecrated. With the home came a sort of reputation- a social stature that determined how a person was regarded in this world. The importance of the home would depend on how a person might identify. The wealthiest cities held their own crests- poor villages would instead show the crest of their ruling country. Soldiers bore the mark of their masters, and peasants wore the clothes of their rulers.

Nautica was different in this manner. She bore no such crest nor badge, her cotton sails dirtied and plain. The remnants of a crest littered her hull, having been carved out of existence to prevent anyone from recognizing the meager vessel. Her wooden visage was solidly built, if not worn by the tumultuous weather. This meant nothing to her crew, as the world that they lived was one different from the rest. To them this was symbolic- for it was she and her crew alone who trekked against the chaos of the Heralding Storm and lived to tell the tale. The word of the crew was enough to placate their missing identities. In the eyes of the outside world however, this unmarked ship stood as an adversary to everything that was held in importance.

Coat no longer billowing behind them like a flag, the navigator climbed down the rope ladder with the weight of a soldier returning home. Their limbs were heavy with exhaustion, but the time for sleep was yet to arrive. Thuds echoed across the ship as iron heels hit the deck, making their way towards the railing. With a heave they released the gangplank from its holds, throwing it onto the docks below. Without waiting for a word from the captain, they stumbled around the bustling sailors, their clothes still sodden from the rains that had bombarded them in the Storm. A half-muttered apology escaped from them with each bump of the shoulder, their first priority to find a place that was much less crowded. They ignored the gasps and offhand comments that came from men, maidens, and everyone else. This had been... expected. Anticipated even. The figure had been warned of the outside world's thoughts of people like them. Even so, they held their chin level with the ground and without fear, a confident facade pushing their tired limbs through the crowd.

Off to the side of the busy sucks was a long and weathered pier, lined with markets and inns for the travel-weary visitors who sought the comfort of stable land. Behind the buildings, a thick wood wound into the sky on gnarled limbs like that of an old woman reaching for the embrace of the autumnal sun. The pier had a somber touch to it, the golden sun shrouded behind the massive ships in a way that left the small village in darkness. The navigator walked along the decaying wood, the space between the slats glistening from salt crystals that had built on it overtime from the rising and receding tides. The solemn air was paralleled by its apparent lack of life. Not a soul was walking along the pier, many of them either working away at the docks or having relinquished their freedoms to the comfort of the drink. One such establishment caught the attention of the fiendish stranger.

A dusty tavern held itself between two shops, the cacophony of sailors able to be heard from any point on the pier. Its walls barely stood, the battered wood worn thin by wind and sea. The tavern's condition had degraded to the point that it was as though a single storm could easily topple yet, it somehow still stood. A pitiful attempt had been made to paint the old building a baby blue, but rather than hide its flaws it accentuated them greatly. Dirt tainted the color, resulting in a nauseating mosaic of brown and grey that mottled the distinguishment of the tavern. Wooden steps led to the door of the establishment, creaking in complaint of every footfall without a care as to the weight of the traveler. A closed door separated the contents of the tavern from the harsh seaside, looking to be in better shape than the rest of the building. Its wood was newly assembled, the steel binding that held it fresh off the forge. The door swung easily in welcome of the newest arrival.

The click of metal heels echoed through the tavern as the figure entered, taking a momentary pause as they processed the scene before them. Dying rays of golden light filtered through the grimy windows, casting a dim light on the drunken scene within. Sailors sat around wooden tables, singing shanties and gambling to their hearts' contents. Their song was slurred and inharmonious- a chorus that could be best described as shouting, but with passion. The ferocity of the conviviality was paralleled as crew mates hugged each other close, swaying with mugs of mead held high into the air. As could be expected, there were no ship captains in sight- just the crews who craved freedom from command. Captains often stayed aboard their ships while the crew journeyed on land, a ritual that was normal among most voyagers.

From sight alone, it was easy to tell what crew each of the patrons were from. There were sailors who were covered in dark and fanciful clothing, with golden armor jutting out into the air around them. Navy blue and deep black decorated their muscular bodies as they gathered closely to one another. Their shoulders were hunched with secrecy, constantly glancing around the tavern with the fires of distrust. These were the crewmen from the Obcieanus Empire, the second largest empire in the world that was almost solely composed of humans and elves. They acted as observers, keeping tabs on the lives that the other countries led. Wealthy people who bartered wares and knowledge with those they deemed worthy. Breastplates of plated steel were inlaid with lapis lazuli; a crest in the form of a floating city held adrift by ornamented clouds.

Another group was clad in scaled armor reminiscent to that of dripping blood, shining and spotless under the grimy dusk-light. An aura of power and strength exuded from the soldiers- servants of the Illian Empire. The center of the largest empire, a magical place rife with draconic beings. These same creatures were believed to have been alive since the dawn of time, having created this world with their own claws. It was unnecessary for the Illian Empire to have a true function. In essence, this country ruled over the entirety of the planet with a loving fist. Obcieanus acted as the representation of non-draconic creatures to Illian, using their equal status to negotiate everything from policy to population. Confidence shone in the eyes of the powerful Illianic soldiers, as it was rumored that they drank the blood of their draconic rulers to render themselves unstoppable. Even then, it was only a rumor.

The tavern also sheltered crews that belonged to neither empire. Some of them were simply scurvy-ridden rogues and others who hailed from nondescript lands. There were four other continents in this world who did not hold political or financial power. Crews from Entrijan were mainly diplomats, who sought to keep peace within the Illian Empire's universal reach. Those who hailed from Paxiasmus excelled in medicinal practices, journeying the globe in search of methods in which to improve their knowledge. The icy lands of Parnix were central to the arts and humanities, their creations able to be found in most corners of the world. Sailors from here were skilled tradesmen, building upon the beauty of the natural world. Aswa was the last continent, acting as the agricultural center of the planet. Its rich and diverse flora allowed for the cultivation of thousands of plants and crops without the fear of draining its natural resources.

None of the patrons took notice of the silent stranger who observed them; thankfully so. The navigator's appeared often startled people who were not accustomed to such a sight. Their skin was dark and warm, covered in plain clothes tattered from the elements. This itself was nothing to behold however, the two horns that sprouted from their forehead with the company of another, smaller pair caught the attention of passerby. These horns bent backwards over the stranger's head, tips pointed towards the sky. It was evident that they had been shaped through a lifetime of salted oceanic winds. Pale blue hair was neatly tied back- a single braid cascading down among the otherwise free tresses. The long locks avoided contact with the horns, appearing on the top of the fiend's scalp but nowhere to be found on the sides. More interesting was the row of sharp teeth that the figure donned in a toothy grin. Accompanying the devilish smile were pearled eyes that were entirely devoid of irises and pupils. It was impossible to tell where the figure was looking at any given time.

Boots of iron and leather made their way across the disheveled tavern, towards a group of drunken sailors. Their clothing was simple and layered, decorated only by an embroidered tree with winding branches. A crew from Arboranium, a large town in the southern peninsula that traded lumber. A hush fell over the merry men as they came into the suddenly suffocating circle.

With a clearing of the throat, the devilish figure spoke in a thickly accented voice, "Me name is Sapione Damadius, navigator o' the sea vessel Nautica. 'Ve come-" The introduction was interrupted for a moment by the tension that filled the air, "'Ve come here t' find the great city o' Illian. Could any o' ye be so kind as t' aid me?" The figure spoke in what they hoped to be a friendly tone.

One of the sailors coughed into her hand before looking up at the devilish being, "Too far east and too close to the waters you've come. You best head to the northern docks and find a path inland if you seek Illian City. Sail around the southern edge of the docks and head northwest." Her voice was thick and soulful, a pair of green eyes keeping a stubborn hold on Sapione Damadius. Her crew mates were clearly protective, trying to square their shoulders and appear menacing to the stranger. However, the drink in their bellies and the flush of their cheeks made them look more ridiculous than intimidating. With a snicker, the figure watching the sailors and opting to end the situation, pulled a single silver piece out of his pocket and tossed it to the woman in gratitude. She caught with a stumble, doing her best under the influence of the mead that warmed her chest. Taking it between her teeth, she bit down to test its authenticity. It was real.

The figure turned, their eyes flitting from patron to patron. The sun had set below the horizon by now, the mucky glow of daylight through dirtied replaced by the warm light of oil lamps as they were lit one by one by the bartender. The imprisoned flames cast gentle shadows around the tavern's occupants, group after group leaving the business to return to their ships for the night. Sapione Damadius took a deep breath, stale air ripening their senses with rotted wood and dying morale. They sauntered over to the now empty counter, lightly sitting on the nearest bar stool. Iron beat against wood as Sapione Damadius tapped their foot idly, gaze settling on the bartender.

He had busied himself with cleaning the inside of a metal mug with a mildewed washcloth. With a clearing of his throat he spoke, his voice gruff and coarse, breath smelling of smoke, "You know damn well we won't be serving you here, devil. Why even try?" Gazeless eyes watched the man as the fiend made no move to leave, fingers tapping against the counter in harmony to the click of their heels. They denied the bartender a response as they crossed one leg over the other, leaning back in the stool and waiting in absolute silence. It was a battle not of will, but of patience. It was also one that Sapione Damadius knew they would win- for they had all the time in the world and the bartender would be too stubborn to call upon the city guard. Ignoring the fiend, the man cleaned the rest of the tavern before finally settling against the counter across from them.

The bartender stood vigil for only a few minutes before his prejudices forced him to cave. With a tired grunt he grabbed one of the cleaned mugs, filling it halfway with cheap ale. He clapped it onto the counter in front of the devilish being before holding out his hand for payment. Sapione Damadius leaned up, glancing into the cup with eyebrows raised, "Only half? If I pay fer somethin' sir, I expect t' get me full product." Teeth grit in unveiled annoyance, the bartender filled the mug properly before slamming it back in front of the fiend.

Two silver coins were now placed on the counter before Sapione Damadius picked up the mug and drank casually. Their tongue ran across their teeth deliberately, licking the flavor of the ale with a brazen look to the man. The intention behind the behavior was clear, the bartender returning it with mostly disgust... and a bit of something else that he had no consideration to portray. Sapione Damadius fell back into a calculated silence as they drank their fill of the ale, setting down the empty mug and standing. They wiped their mouth with the back of their hand before leaning forward on their elbows, "Ye know a trick o' the trade me good sir? A game is best played when ye have nothin' t' lose and everythin' t' gain."

With a cheeky laugh, they winked at the bartender before sauntering out of the decrepit tavern, leaving the fuming bartender behind to clean one final dishware. They stepped out into the night as a light breeze swept through the docks, carrying the familiar smell of salt water and rotted fish. The port city around them was quiet of all natural life, the only sounds to be heard was that of the ships rocking against the wooden docks. A deep breath to rid their senses of the tavern, the figure turned and headed down the pier, softly singing a tune under their breath.

* * *

A cheerful voice called out from above as Sapione Damadius approached the Nautica as a head topped with fiery hair peered out over the railing, the smile that followed suit brighter than the sun itself. The woman glowed in the night like the beacon of a lighthouse, her enthusiasm enough to guide the souls of the disheartened. With a sharp huff she returned to work, loosening the ship's bow line. As Sapione Damadius made their way up the gangplank, they could see that the rest of the crew had resigned to their cots for the evening. It always seemed as though the cheerful woman was always awake and toiling away, her spirit matching her hair.

The billowing sleeves of her bodice moved with her every action, the tools clunking noisily as she maneuvered about the ship. She called out once again as she pulled a hammer from her belt, "Well if it isn't the person o' the hour! Ye must feel higher than the clouds now."

A laugh escaped from Sapione Damadius, their shoulders relaxing as they immediately felt at ease. They leaned against the ship's wooden railing, loosening their pale hair from its ties haphazardly, "Aye. Even better if we can scavenge a spot at the northern docks. Word from Captain?" The fiend's voice was much more casual now, the dramatics they displayed at the tavern now absent in the company of the familiar face.

The woman shook her head as sparks crackling into the night air like a bonfire, rising up before turning to ash. She set her tools aside, taking a place on the railing next to her friend and looking out over the quiet docks. A troubled look overcame her features for a moment, lips pursed together before she sighed, "Nay. She's holed herself up in her quarters. We won't be hearin' from her till tomorrow. Are ye goin' back out tonight, Riley?" She turned to face them as her fingers made their way to Sapione Damadius' hair, unraveling the braid before doing it over again. Sapione Damadius was their name in the eyes of their home and the ship- yet to their friends, their nickname was Riley.

Turning their head for the sake of access, Riley let out a quiet sigh, "Not this time, Kitty. The locals here don't kindly take t' people o' me... sort. I ought t' lay low til we get closer t' Illian City." Although they addressed her as Kitty, the woman's true name was Pyre.

"Ah. So they can accept dragons but not ye? That's a bit hypocritical nay?"

A half-hearted chuckle escaped Riley's lips, the woman's fingers deftly finishing the braid and securing it once again. She then picked up a bit of leftover line, knotting the frayed rope in various ways before undoing them absentmindedly. Riley watched for a moment before putting up a toothy smile that glinted beneath the light of her fire, although the feelings behind it could not quite match. "Guess it is. I ought t' be gettin' t' bed. Don't stay up too late, ye hear? Grimm'll be havin' a fit if he hears ye didn't sleep 'gain."

Kitty gave a playful shrug, tying the knot to her belt before walking off to continue her work. Riley's pearled gaze followed her to the stern of the ship before making their way to the lower decks in search of an empty cot. Careful to be as quiet as possible, they navigated their way through the dark and musty corridors of the ship's cabin. Peaceful snores surrounded the narrow halls, coming from different bunks. Thirteen crew members resided in this one room, all of whom had spent months together on the open sea, never knowing if they would survive.

Sitting down on an empty cot, Riley kicked off their boats and removed their coat as a sigh of relief escaped them, their arms free from the damp confines. They stuffed the articles of clothing into the dark space beneath the bed and laid down, their mind immediately wandering. Sixteen crewmen. Sixteen people, all with lives of their own that were given up in moments for the sake of their homeland. The second most skilled in their fields, chosen from among the town's population. Why the second? If these people were to die on the sea, there would still be somebody at home who could continue the trade in their absence. It was a great risk to send anyone out into the Heralding Storm, but one that the town felt was worth taking. Failure on the part of the sailors would mean that there would be nothing left of their home but the sight of the fallen and memories of the forgotten. It was fear of this failure that kept the fiendish navigator from the comforting embrace of sleep.

Sleep eventually took hold of the fretful fiend, awaking in the morning to the soft and welcoming rays of the sun shining through the porthole into the cabin. With a yawn they stretched their limbs before lounging lazily in the cot. The cabin was otherwise empty, the cabin children racing about the room to fix up the beds for the next night. A mess of tousled, mossy brown hair rested upon one of the child's heads, their skin pale and freckled. Osenas was their name, a shy child who often expressed their feelings in action and behavior. Their eyes were an earthy brown color, preferring the routine of cleaning the ship to the constantly changing daily labor that the sailors tended to.

Their sister, Vylkedove, was practically identical to Osenas save for the wild hair that reached down to her knees. She was an inquisitive and bold child- as well as the only soul on the ship who could disturb the Captain at any time without consequence. Her interests lied in the inner workings of ship operation- especially navigation. As a result Vylkedove often accompanied Riley while they plotted the ship's route, but she was never present while the fiend was in the crow's nest.

Both children wore plain shawls and baggy pants of linen. They had been stowaways found only after the ship left their home. It was decided that they would be allowed to find a new start of their lives, so long as they worked for their passage. Kitty especially took a liking to the children, having taken them under her wing. She ensured that they were treated well- as two children instead of just cabinboys. On the other end, Riley saw the children as their own responsibility. Not like that of a parent, but rather in that there were two more reasons to be unable to sleep at night.

Above the cabin, Grimm and Kitty were finishing their repairs on the vessel. The rest of the crew had gone to find an establishment to unleash the pent up energy that their stir-crazy hearts had accumulated over their three months at sea. Gulls cried in shrill voices as they flew overhead, the Storm from the west beginning to darken the skies. It was as if the Storm had followed the Nautica to land, desperate to reclaim what had been taken from it. The winds arrived in a swarm of foreshadowing, blowing across the rocks and pushing the hulls of the ships against the docks. Tides turned choppy as the water churned beneath. Sails were tucked away, gangplanks lifted and bow lines loosened as the vessels prepared for the coming of the Storm. The Nautica followed suit, Kitty calling for Riley and the children to aid her.

The Captain finally appeared from her quarters, followed closely by a blathering man who was trying to reason with her. She walked with an authoritative swagger, bronze scales glittering in the dim sunlight as reptilian eyes glossed over the deck. She wore dark leather armor whose hide was rife with marks and cuts. Each scratch told a different tale of the many wars the captain had conquered, only adding to the demanding intensity of her presence. Her lips pursed in aggravation at the lack of a functioning crew. Clawed hands tightened into fists as she strode over to one of the bow lines, correctively tying it into place.

"Surely, Captain Moyeaux, another day won't hold us back. It took months t' get through that storm, what is the difference o' a single day?" The man had followed the captain's every step without making any move to help. He was the Quartermaster, an older elven man who was significantly taller than the captain but much less intimidating. His hair was silvered with age and there was a hardened look in his features; it was as though he once stared into the brimstone of the ninth circle of hell and won battles with the other eight. His name was Durlan, an intimidating fellow until the moment you heard him speak. His voice was high and incessant, a whine that made the crew curious as to how the Captain hadn't done away with him yet.

"The difference o' twenty-four hours. Quartermaster Durlan, is the lives o' two-thousand children an' seven-thousand townsfolk. The Nautica has survived a three-month voyage inside the Heraldin' Storm; it can survive another day. I understand yer concerns, but 've made me decision," Moyeaux adjusted the anchor's stability as she inspected it, voice taking on a dagger-like sharpness, "Ye can stand by it, or ye can take leave into the wilderness o' Illian knowing that everyone ye love will be dead." She strode away from the anchor, climbing the stairs and taking her place at the wheel. Her hands gripped the wooden wheel, sleeping into well-worn grooves that fit the captain's fingers perfectly.

Her quip was met with a resigned and slightly horrified silence from Durlan, the captain answering him with a scoff, "Go find the crew an' tell 'em what I told ye. I'll presume that the ones who return know what 've said." The Quartermaster nodded curtly before turning and walking towards the gangplank. Riley ducked their head as he passed, opting to avoid the testy representative of the crew until their services were needed. Even if Durlan couldn't directly disrespect the Captain, nothing stopped him from doing the same to the crew he represented.

Riley felt their heart skip a beat in their chest as the cold claws of foreboding slowly scratch along their spine. They watched as the Storm brewed in the sky, letting out a quivering breath. Their role as Sailing Master meant that it was their responsibility to get the ship through any obstacles that were in her way. This was not what scared them. The culprit of the devilish fiend's fear was Captain Moyeaux's unyielding determination. Some could see it as a token of honor and pride to have a leader who was so committed to saving her people and yet, Riley saw it as impatience. A fatal flaw that could sacrifice more than save. If something were to happen to the crew-

"Sapione Damadius!" The Captain's voice rang out clearly over the deck and in an instant the fiend was by her side.

Their shoulders squared, chin leveled with the ground beneath them, "Captain Moyeaux- At yer service!"

A hint of a smile came to her draconic face before it fell quickly, "Plot a course t' the north. I expect us t' be at our final destination by sundown." Sapione Damadius nodded their agreement before retreating to the hold.

They found a messy desk below deck, overflowing with maps and routes. Pencils and compasses acted as paperweights, an unlit lamp nearly falling off the edge of the table. Sapione Damadius grabbed it from its precarious perch, hanging it up on a hook that extended from the ceiling, With a snap of their fingers, it magically caught aflame. Opalescent eyes narrowed in focus, the figure took their seat at the table and began to pour over the maps of the western coast of Illian.

In an hour's time, they had returned to the deck with a plan. By now, the entirety of the crew has returned to Nautica, their loyal hearts lying in their home and Moyeaux. The sails had been unfurled and the bow lines pulled taut. The Captain stood at her post, waiting to be informed.

After a quick briefing to the captain, they began to climb the rope ladder towards the crow's nest at the height of the second mast. The wind threatened to overthrow Riley from their precarious climb, settling inside the confines of the crows nest to await command. Winds whipped around the docks, pushing the ships to and fro mercilessly as a thunderous boom echoed overhead. Pearled eyes peered over the top of the nest, taking in the sight of the cacophony as the Storm pleaded with Nautica to halt her perilous journey. Riley spoke a silent prayer before kissing their knuckle as the Captain sounded her command to the otherwise abandoned docks.

"Weigh the anchor an' haul wind! We haven't got all day!" The first mate hoisted the anchor from its rocky prey, pulling it back onto the deck. Nautica immediately listed towards the starboard side, threatening to capsize in the vicious waters. Sapione Damadius held their hands out as lighting struck the sea around them. A glow the color of thunder clouds began to manifest in their pearlescent gaze, swirling until the opaline colors had disappeared. Soft blue light dripped down their cheeks, crawling towards their arms before unfurling like the wings of a bird ready to take flight. With a swift motion, the winds obeyed the winged call- pummeling itself into the ship's sails and pushing Nautica out to sea. The wrath of the Storm surrounded the ship, giving its final warning to her as lightning burst from the heavens and struck the above the navigator's head.

Down on the deck, the crew worked tirelessly to keep the vessel afloat- fastening the lines only to loosen them again a few minutes later. Casting the sails only to furl them once more at the Captain's order. Shouts from the crow's nest as Sapione Damadius called out to avoid obstacles. A single stray from their intended route could mean the destruction of the ship- the threat of the riptides looming on the west and rocky outcroppings on the east. Every sailor knew their roles and worked accordingly, knowing the everything they worked for was staked on the Nautica's survival.

The gale was unrelenting around the vessel and yet, thanks to Sapione Damadius, she stayed safely between the thralls of the storm. It wasn't that the ship now moved with the Storm, rather that the Storm now moved with her. Like a tightrope walker she carefully tread the fraying bridge, certain doom lurking just beneath. A single misstep and she would tumble to the bottom of the ocean, taking tea with Davy Jones for the rest of time. The magic that dripped from the navigator like a thick liquid was the safety net for which Nautica could use to walk confidently across the bridge.

Sapione Damadius took a deep breath, their mind starting to wander as they fell into the motions. Everything was on par for the course. Despite their fears over the Captain's irascible determination, it seemed that she once again made the correct call. She knew the strengths of her sailors, even where they carried doubts of their own abilities. In the mind of Marie Moyeaux, a weakness was just a strength that had yet to be practiced. No skill was innate- it was always something that had to be learned. Trust, Sapione Damadius realized, was yet another skill they would practice.

Their coat billowed out behind them as their hair was unceremoniously ripped from its ties, whipping furiously about. It was as if the wind knew it could not deny the influence of the fiend's magic, so it unleashed the full extent of its rage upon them in a cyclone of personal defiance. Another deep breath. They knew they had to keep control over themself or risk releasing this hellish wind upon the crew. Kitty. The Twins. Grimm. The memories and adoration they held for their crew mates soothed their anxious soul. But even safety nets can fail.

Snap.

A sudden cry came from the deck as Grimm's bellowing voice called out through the storm, "Boom about!" He raced towards the center of the ship as the main mast's boom went flying, the lines ripped apart by the storm. The sound burst the navigator's focus, the magic disappearing as the intense Storm wound its thick body around the decks like a vengeful serpent. The orcish man dove at the boom as Sapione Damadius watched with terrified eyes, suspense gripping their heart in cold fear-

Crack!

The boom slammed directly into Grimm's chest accompanied by the spine-shivering crack of bones. It was halted as Grimm crumpled to the deck. Enough to distract the winds of fate, Osenas staring with a fearful and traumatized expression. Pyre, the fiery beacon of her hair streaking behind her, swooped in and grappled the child. She dragged the cabinchild towards a wooden dinghy on the starboard side, shoving them inside before doing the same to the other twin. The ship lurched once again, the elemental nearly flying overboard. Pulling a dagger from her belt, she sawed desperately at the ropes- barely able to cut them as a wave suddenly pulled the dinghy overboard into the tumultuous waters below. Screams pierced through the wall of wind as sailors were thrown about the ship and over the sides.

Sapione Damadius witnessed all of this in absolute horror, their shouts lost to the wrathful winds. No longer held back by the fiend's magic, the Storm unleashed its full strength onto the vessel. Urgency overcame their being as they raised shaking hands towards the sky. The stormy glow burst forth from the navigator like an overflowing dam, streaking into the clouds. Winds of fury unwillingly relented as control over the cyclone was returned, but only for a moment.

Nautica suddenly lurched deeper into the sea as the waters around her suddenly receded. The crew clung desperately to her rails, waiting with bated breath to figure out what was happening. Moyeaux suddenly yelled for the crew to take cover in the hold, the remaining sailors racing to get below deck. As they ran, the waters beneath the ship grew dark as a giant wave manifested from within the Storm, Nautica directly in its path.

With a deep breath and a heartfelt cry Sapione Damadius fell to their knees, their hands clasping together pleadingly, "Storm of the Fallen! Hear me as I call! Stow away your destruction and please give us your mercy!" Magic crackled out from the figure in bursts of lightning, the excess dripping down like a summer's monsoon, illuminated against the dark sky. A deep rumble resounded from beneath the ship as the wave came even closer. Kitty shouted up at the navigator from the deck, her begging cries deafened by the roaring winds. Her fiery hair had been extinguished, dripping wet from the rain.

Captain Moyeaux still stood at the helm, turning the wheel of the ship. With a groan and the horrible sound of ripping wood Nautica moved, her bow forced towards the growling pursuer. She yelled for the last two sailors to get below deck before taking a step back from the wheel. As the wave approached she faced it, taking a single and slow bow towards the tidal wave. A quiet parting word was spoken before the Captain turned and retreated to her personal quarters, her head held high.

It is said that in the moment before the inevitable claws of destruction bring about the pain of a changed future, the passing of time is slowed. Whether it is to allow you to bear witness to the immensity of the situation or to remember a time before the destruction, nobody knows. Yet sometimes, the opposite phenomenon occurs. Time moves so quickly that it feels as though it never passed at all, sparing you from the full pain of the destruction. Although the wrathful Storm could not reverse its jurisdiction, it took mercy upon the devilish fiend who cried for safety.

In one moment, Sapione Damadius was curled inside the comforts of the crow's nest, their arms covering their horned head. Tears of loss spilled onto the sodden wood below them as they gave their future away to fate, knowing there was nothing else they could do to save anyone. Yet in the next moment the navigator was in the fearsome sea, adrift and barely clinging onto life.

Nautica was in the far distance, rocks the color of the night buried into the vessel's hide as she sunk beneath the tide. The predator made the kill, now dragging its prey down to the ocean floor. The last thing Sapione Damadius heard as they slipped below the waves was the mournful cries of the ship and her crew- friends and families now forever ripped from one another. Cold water surrounded the disgraced navigator as they sank, holding them in an icy embrace. Frigid hands snaked beneath their clothes like a sensual lover, encompassing the dying figure in a welcome embrace. Hues of blue descended into darkness, black creeping upon their vision as the precious air escaped their grieving lungs.

Thoughts of Kitty filled their mind as a slow hand grasped their now unbraided hair, opalescent eyes closing tightly. With sluggish speed, their head drifted to the twins. A quiet prayer echoed from their soul- even if Sapione Damadius did not survive, they hoped for the lives of those three to be spared. The pain of loss could be lessened, but death could not. Bubbles of air escaped their lips as mourning blossomed in their chest, knowing that they would perish having failed the Nautica. The crew. Their home. As the last of their breath rose to the surface it was here that Sapione Damadius would rest, relinquishing their soul to the eternal company of Davy Jones.


	2. Island of the Forgotten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riley awakens on a sandy shore with no idea how they survived. They find themself on an abandoned island, lain to waste away in the elements. For the first time in six-hundred years, this island will see the start of a new journey.

Hungry gulls cried from above. Gritty sand scratched against skin, hot from the glare of the midday sun. A throat parched and yearning for the sweet relief of water. A cooling ocean breeze bringing freshness to the air. Eyes opened to take in the light of the world before them. The beach wound around the boundaries of the land, dotted with sharp boulders along the edges of the water. The sea was a rich blue, calm waves gently lapping at the sand in a cool greeting. With a slow turn of the head, tired eyes gazed upon the rest of the island. A sparse grove of trees speckled the land as sand gave way to dark soil. In the near distance were the remains of a village, its decay starkly evident from afar.

Riley lifted their heavy head from the sand, weakly shaking the grains from the ridges of their horns. They lifted themselves to their hands and knees, eyes darting around tiredly. A coughing fit overtook the fiend, their lungs ridding themselves of the water lodged inside. Fatigue fogged their tired mind, barely gripping onto consciousness as they leaned down and kissed the wet sand in gratitude. As their chapped lips touched the hot sand, memories flooded into their thoughts like the rain pouring into an empty well. The appreciation was quickly drowned, replaced by a grief that gripped their heart in a vice. Pain sunk its horrible claws into Riley's chest, a choked sob escaping them.

Time passed before the weight had lifted enough from their shoulders to allow the fiend to stand, there hardly any wet tears to dry. Riley rose shakily to their feet, tired eyes gazing out over the calm sea- watching as minuscule waves pulled the tide from the sand. 'It's as if yesterday ne'er happened... Yesterday. Was it yesterday?' The fiend thought to themself, brow knitting together worriedly, 'How long ago did... surely if it were longer than a day, there'd be survivors- no.' They couldn't think about that, not at this moment. Riley took a deep breath and cleared their throat, walking along the hot sand with the quivering legs of a newly born fawn. Their devilish tail coiled itself around their boot as they made their way along the shore, searching for any signs of the ship or their crew mates.

* * *

"I can't go. I can't leave ye," Sapione Damadius's voice was quiet and reserved, fear hinting at the inflection of their words, "What if I never see ye again? What if I-" They were silenced by a pair of arms wrapping around them, holding them in a loving embrace. The small room fell into a hushed silence as the family of three watched Sapione Damadius from their seats on a handmade rug beneath them. A dented tray lay in the middle of the gathering, covered in scraps of food that remained untouched. Tension buzzed in the air, thick enough to cut with a knife.

"Ye have t' leave us, Sappi. We need the money t' help mother. If ye go on this voyage, ye'll save the whole town from the thing huntin' us. Mother can get her medicine an' we won't go hungry." The feminine voice belonged to the fiend's sister, Anidorine, an air of pleading as she held her sibling closer. None of them knew what the future would hold, not really. Sapione Damadius took a deep breath, wrapping their arm around their sister and picking up a small disc of bread from the tray. They had to be strong. For their family.

The fiend held the bread into the air in cheers, "Let's not focus on our problems right now. Let's jus'... enjoy our last night together aye?" There was a forced confidence in their voice, one that they knew was not matched by their voice. Anidorine saw her sibling's struggle and jumped to the rescue. She picked up the tray, passing it around to the rest of the family as they each took a piece for themselves. A quick blessing was given before they pressed one another's bread to each other in thanks, eating the meager rations.

Once upon a time, Anidorine would have started up a song to sing or played a tune on her wooden flute, but constant fear had long since quieted their people's music. Especially once the night had settled, not a sound could be heard in the entire city. If no noise was made and all of the lamps were aflame, the nocturnal hunter had no way to get to you.

Hope recently found its way through the city at the announcement of a ship being built to withstand the Heralding Storm. Finally finished, she now sought her first crew. Nautica was to set sail in search of a solution for the danger her homeland had been facing for months now. An invisible monster was hunting the townsfolk at night, leaving nothing in its wake. The only trails it left behind were a series of deaths that had been confined to those living at the edges of the city. At first, a serial killer was suspected to be on loose until larger groups began to perish in the blood baths. The victims would always be found in the early light of the dawn, dragged from their homes and mauled until they were unidentifiable. Neighbors of the victims would claim that they hadn't heard or seen anything amiss during the evenings, but rather that the night was quieter than usual. Every solution the town could invent to find the killer had failed, and now they sought the help of the outside world. There was an empire that was fabled to exist as beyond the eldest of the city, nobody knew of the world beyond the eye of the eternal Storm.

Sapione Damadius had been chosen for the ship's crew, their skill in navigation and their ability to magically manipulate the Storm distinguished them from the rest. At first, they had been skeptical of the voyage- surely the townspeople could solve this on their own. Then a situation only a few nights previous had changed the fiend's mind. The hunter targeted the home next to theirs after the lamps had been allowed to extinguish. Sapione Damadius' youngest sister had nearly been caught in the crossfire- saved from an all-encompassing darkness by the flame of her torch. Even if the fiend was not forced to embark on the voyage, they would do it if it meant their family was protected from the murderous hunter. Nothing would stop Sapione Damadius from completing this mission. Not even death itself.

* * *

Riley wandered the sandy coast for nearly an hour, the sun slowly descending towards the western sky. Their search had so far yielded nothing but frustrations, not even debris littered the sand. That is, until a glint caught their eye. A short pause of contemplation halted Riley's feet as they tried to discern what it was before they suddenly let out a sharp gasp. A shout escaped their throat as energy surged through their legs, sprinting across the sand.

Kitty lay unmoving, her legs lightly buried under the tide. Her fiery hair had been extinguished by the sea, revealing a bob cut of black hair like charcoal. Cheek buried against the hot sand, her breathing was shallow and irregular, eyes closed shut. The elemental was curled onto her side in a fetal position like the symmetric coils of a snail's shell. Riley fell to their knees next to her inert form, clutching Kitty's hand desperately in one of their own. At the sight of her breathing, a hopeful whimper escaped the fiend.

The navigator hauled Kitty into their arms, shaky sobs of relief escaping them as they carefully carded their fingers through her hair. A struggling breath escaped the unconscious woman's chest, no doubt from the water that resided in her lungs. Riley quickly wiped their tears before carefully laying Kitty down on her back and leaning over her. They put their hands on top of one another before pressing them into the elemental's chest, doing it rhythmically every few seconds. After a minute or so of this, Riley leaned down and pressed their lips to Kitty's, blowing short breaths. On the last breath her body jerked a bit as she coughed up the salty water, gasping for air.

Riley stumbled back with wide eyes before muttering, "K-Kitty? Kitty-" They pulled the elemental back into their arms, letting out a single cry of relief as they hugged her close. Kitty continued to clear her lungs of the watery intrusion, leaning into Riley. It was clear to the navigator that their friend was entirely out of sorts still, barely hanging onto her consciousness. Carefully balancing Kitty in their arms, they made their way deeper into the island towards the ruins of the village.

By the time they found a building suited for shelter, the sun was just beginning to set, its dying rays casting a golden sheen across the village. All that remained were a row of crumbling homes, other buildings scattered without order or logic. At the center of the village was a broken well, one part of the circular stone wall collapsed inwards. The building that caught Riley's eye was at the edge of the village, located at the opposite end to the row. Ducking inside through what was once the front entrance, Riley carefully laid their friend into the soft grass. The floor had been broken away here, allowing for the plant life to grow.

With a quick search they deemed the building safely abandoned, any animal cries coming from beyond the village. Riley inhaled deeply through their nose, releasing it slowly through their lips before turning and heading into the overgrown wilderness. They needed to find food and water for both of them.

Exhaustion weighed down their every step, yet they still walked. Knowing Kitty survived the shipwreck was enough to keep the fiend going, a sense of responsibility fueling their determination. Although the adrenaline fueled their moving limbs, their mind undeniably wandered back to the tragedy.

One second, Sapione Damadius had been huddled inside the crow's nest- bracing for the typhoon to smash its rage against Nautica's hull. The next, they were floating helplessly in the water as they fought to stay conscious. Then darkness. 'How did I end up in the water? On the shore?' The navigator hadn't seen any land from the highest point of the ship before it fell under. By all reasoning, they should be at the bottom of the sea- at least more of them. They searched their mind for answers to their missing memory, their thoughts refusing to even conjure the image of the sinking Nautica.

'Has anyone else survived the wreck?' A pain filled their chest as they thought of Grimm, knowing that unless someone had managed to bring him ashore, the selfless orc was now at the bottom of the world- probably charming Davy Jones himself by now. The captain went down with the ship, Riley knew. She was far too honorable to break such a sacred tradition. "The children- oh fu-' Riley's hands began to shake as the devilish being's imagination tortured them with the thought. 'Surely, surely they're alive- they 'ave t' be! They're far too young- Kitty! O' course! She put 'em in the dinghy!' They nodded once to themself in stubbornness, refusing to entertain any other thought even as tears began to fill their eyes. Thinking about the tragedy was not helpful to the fiend right now. All it did was fill their body was a heaviness that was unmatched.

The terrible thoughts were interrupted as they suddenly lost their footing, ankle twisting as they tumbled to the ground with a thud and the grunt of pain. Riley found themself becoming intimate with the moist dirt. Disorientation concealed the physical pain, it slowly revealing itself as they slowly turned their head to inspect what tripped them. Their heart stopped in cold terror, crawling away in utter fear at the macabre sight near their feet.

An empty skull gazed up at the fiend, the empty husk partially broken inwards and faded yellow with age. What was once a rib cage now slept beneath a pile of rotted leaves. Alongside it fragments of bones were piled at the base of a tree, the remnants of a tragedy long forgotten. An empty noose with its rope frayed and stiff hung above the bones like an omen of death, presenting itself for all to see. The fiend's gaze settled on the scene with a deep pang of sadness, breath coming in short and shaking huffs. Slowly they stood, carefully picking up the shattered skull, cupping it tenderly in both hands.

One foot after the other Riley walked over to the tree, as though they were in a procession. Kneeling down on one leg, they carefully set the skull on top of the pile. They bowed their head as they spoke in a solemn voice, "May ye rest now, whoever ye may be." As the fiend slowly lifted their head once more, their gaze settled upon a strange mark in the tree. In the thick bark was carved a message, so old that it had scarred over into a dark scab. The letters were nearly illegible and rushed, having been written quickly. It was as if the writer were running out of time. 

"Zoavist".

Riley sighed softly before looking down at the skeleton, "Well, Zoavist. Ye need t' be buried properly. 'M not sure how ye do it on Illian, but it doesn't feel right t' give ye an Urbmarian burial." They got down on both knees now, taking their hands and digging a shallow grave next to the pile of bones. Placing them inside, they covered the remains with dark soil. The ex-navigator sang a gently sailing song of goodbye before sealing it with a kiss to the carving.

Standing once more, they carefully lifted their sleeve. A soft blue glow filled their eyes like tears as they took their finger, inscribing the name directly onto their skin. The magic seared itself into the fiend's skin like a tattoo, a gentle light emanating from as it settled into a light blue ink against their dark skin. Riley gave a quiet goodbye to the grave before pulling down their sleeve. Once again they returned to their search for sustenance.

Riley scavenged the woods yet again and by the time they were done, their pockets were overfilled with berries, a few freshly-hunted squirrels in hand. They took a deep breath of satisfaction. Despite their exhaustion, this would be enough to feed the pair for at least the night. As they trudged back in the direction of the shelter, they could not help the tiredness that coiled itself around their heavy limbs. Eyelids heavy with footsteps to match, they failed to notice a plume of thick, black smoke rising into the sky.

Every step the fiend their tiredness grew, their will to fight it waning quickly. Their mind began to meander like a river through a canyon's valley- flowing towards the sunken Nautica. Her screams cut into Riley's mind before the water began to flow in the opposite direction. Images of their sisters and family filled their head, one-by-one turning into Kitty. The fiend slowly slipped back into their daydreams, lacking the energy to fight it anymore. Even as flames began to rise towards the clouds, licking at the trees surrounding the village.

It was not until the heat of the fires curdled the air around them that Riley snapped out of it. As the smell of smoke filled their nostrils, the exhaustion was overpowered by a surge of adrenaline. Nearly dropping the squirrels, they sprinted back to the village.

As they arrived, they saw the source of the dark plumes. The shelter Riley chose was now up in flames and although it had not yet spread, it burnt furiously as thick and suffocating clouds of smoke billowed from within. Their heart dropped as they remembered that Kitty had been resting inside. A broken shout escaped Riley's throat as they shoved the squirrels in their pockets, sprinting at the inferno. Just as they were about to throw themself inside to rescue their friend, a familiar voice called from behind them.

Whipping around, relief flooded Riley as their friend filled their sight. Their legs nearly gave out beneath them. "Kitty,- I thought I lost ye-" Riley ran over to her, hugging her tightly- "- are ye okay?"

Kitty held Riley to her, tucking their head underneath her chin. "Aye. I hadn't even known ye were here until I saw ye jumpin' in. What's goin' on?" She looked bewildered, but Riley knew that there was no time to explain. Not until later.

"I'll explain everythin', but right now we have t' put out this fire before it destroys the village." They regarded the fire, not having the slightest idea where to start.

After a moment, Kitty placed a hand on her friend's shoulder, pointing towards the house, "Use yer magic t' tear those down. I'll burn the wood around it t' keep it from spreadin'." Riley nodded their agreement as Kitty ran to the other side of the house. With a deep breath, they lifted their hands out in front of them as they began to chant in a low tone. A deep rumble stirred from inside their chest as their opalescent gaze slowly clouded over with the power of the storms, a blue glow encompassing their hands and spreading towards their person. After a few seconds they pulled their hands inwards towards their chest, before suddenly thrusting them out at the first building. A high-pitched, ear-shattering shriek suddenly echoed from within the building. Concrete walls cracked and the roof crumbled into pieces from the sheer frequency of the magical sound.

On the opposite side of the house, Kitty's hands were held together by the tips of her thumbs. From the middles of her palms a twisting inferno escaped, like a demon writhing out from the depths of the hottest circle. A creature of blue and yellow, waves of heat distorting the air around her as if the world was unraveling. The heat of the blazes did not affect the elemental in the slightest, her brows furrowed in concentration. As she burnt away the remaining wood of the fire, the original blaze ebbed. The destruction of the concrete supports meant that the flames could not reach the trees above.

By the time the fire had been reduced to a smoldering pile of red-hot embers, the sun had set well below the horizon. The world around the lost pair was cast in darkness yet again. Clinging to one another in comfort, they moved away from the heated destruction. Gently guiding Riley, Kitty led them towards the row of homes on the opposite side of the village. All four of them were in differing amounts of decay, but they were the last of the buildings left. The elemental led her friend to what seemed to be the most stable one- at least from what she could see of the silhouettes against the chilling blue of the night sky.

Once inside, the fire that sprouted from Kitty's head illuminated the walls of the crumbling abode. They were in the remains of what looked to be a main family room. Parts of the roof had caved in, grass growing between the planks of rotted floor where the sunlight cast itself. The windows of the home were smashed in- the wood that had been covering the glass befalling the same fate. Anything that could even represent furniture had been reduced to debris by now, piled up against the front entrance. What was once a staircase was now collapsed, the last of the steps hanging diagonally from the second floor. The cement wall had fallen on one side, serving as the only entrance into the house. A roof covered most of the room, save for where the destruction was most severe.

Riley sat down on the floor where they stood, sighing deeply and grateful to finally be off of their feet. Kitty made her way around the house, tiredly grabbing bits of rotted wood to start a small campfire. She gathered the scraps into a neat pile before holding one of the planks to her hair, setting it alight and dropping it into the wood. Once the fire built to a stable height, the fiend rifled through their pockets. After a moment, they produced the two squirrels from within, a handful of berries falling out after them. With a grimace, they laid the squirrels down on the edge of the fire to let them cook. The smell of burning hair assaulted their senses as Kitty sat down next to them, keeping close despite the scent.

She sat quietly until the rodents' skin began to char, her voice heavy with pain, "They... they're gone, aren't they. The crew. The children." Her dark eyes reflected the light of the fire as her features twisted with grief. Riley felt a jolt of pain in their chest before nodding slowly and sitting back, unwilling and unable to verbally acknowledge the truth. At the soundless confirmation the elemental took a deep breath, letting the air settle before suddenly bolting up and storming out of the house. Riley watched in sympathy before the sudden roar of fire echoed from outside, their eyes widening in concern.

They scrambled to their feet, reaching the entrance of the house just as a flower of flame burst from Kitty's palm. It fully consumed the tree in front of her, the core of the fiery flora bursting into the wood. Set aflame without hesitance, Kitty observed as fiery hot embers of tears streamed down her cheeks. Magical fire engulfed every inch of the arboreal bystander, each flame strategically burning it away until it crumbled into a mess of ash. Once the damage was done she fell to her hands and knees, cupping a handful of the blackened ash and holding it up to inspect it. There was a pained look in her eyes as she stared into it. With her thumbs she nudged at the clumps of ash until it was a fine powder, every inch of her hands covered in it.

Riley carefully moved up behind her, resting a comforting hand on the elemental's shoulder, "I know it hurts. But we still 'ave a mission, aye? We can't revel in the comforts o' death until it's over." A quiet sob shook Kitty's chest, the fiend leading her gently off of the ground by her shoulder and back inside. They winced at the temperature of the woman's skin, sitting her down near the campfire.

Deciding it was better to keep close, they sat down next to their friend and busied themself with cooking. They picked up the burning squirrels, trying to turn them as the fire bit at the fiend's fingers. A cry escaped their throat as the tips of their fingers threatened to be burnt, dropping the squirrels back into the fire. A small shower of sparks rose to the ceiling in response. Once the hair was singed away and the skin charred completely, Riley gripped the edge of their shirt sleeve. With a quick pull and twist, they ripped the sleeve away. Setting it down on the ground, they took the meal cautiously from the fire and placed it on top.

They picked up the smoking bundle, holding it out towards the elemental. With some coaxing, Kitty took the burnt catch and began to pick at it. Riley sighed and leaned back on their heels, worry racing through their mind as they ate. They had never seen Kitty this upset before, having no idea how to help her. On the ship, she was always the one who had taken care of the others- the one who was always happy no matter what life had thrown in her way. Grimm would have been able to handle this much better, but not Riley.

"So, uh. Think they have any uh, seasonin' around here? This squirrel's a little... bland. An' burnt." They winced at their words, not entirely convinced of what it was supposed to accomplish. "Tastes kind o' like... chicken?" At the lack of response from their friend, they fell into an awkward silence. Riley figured it was better they stay quiet, since words were not in their favor at the moment. They grabbed some smashed berries from their pocket, stuffing them into their mouth. Yes. Perfect. Can't speak if you're eating. Great plan, Riley.

Kitty eventually caught on to the navigator's evident struggle, a pained smile coming to her face, grateful for their effort. She took a slow breath, "Well... I don't know what kind o' chicken ye eat, considerin' we've eaten fish fer our entire lives." There was a moment of silence before they both broke into laughter- using the graceless situation as a scapegoat from the pain. Riley's hand went to their mouth to keep the berries from falling out, spitting them into their hand and tossing them into the fire. This resulted in a strange look from Kitty, the pair exchanging glances at one another before laughter befell them once more.

Quite a bit of time passed before they fully recollected themselves, pale moonlight filtering in from the hole in the roof. They laid down on the floor, the flames slowly simmering down until it finally extinguished into charcoal and dust. The friends held one another- out of fear, for safety, and out of need. A need to reassure themselves that they truly were still alive. They needed the physical comfort to deal with the loss. Without it, the pair would be consumed by their grief.

Riley curled into the significantly taller Kitty, the latter's hand gently reaching behind the fiend's head. They froze for a moment before her deft fingers started stroking through their light blue hair, stiff from the salty ocean water. Shoulders relaxed at the touch as the fiend curled their knees into their chest, eyes closing to welcome the needed release of sleep. Kitty made a teasing comment about the state of their hair, but it fell upon deaf ears as Riley allowed themself to fall out of consciousness from the waking world.

* * *

"Isn't it beautiful?" Grimm's deep voice startled Sapione Damadius as his thick hand rested on their shoulder. They looked up at the ship with a nervous sigh, the early morning light just barely touching the tops of the massive sails. Seagulls screamed in the distance, the wall of the magical storm rumbling deeply

"Aye. I jus' know that I'm goin' t' miss 'em." Sapione Damadius shifted a bit as they stood on the wooden pier, taking in the gleaming ship among the weathered fishing boats. It was a sharp contrast, Nautica looking like a deity among the muck. Their job as navigator was what they had trained for their entire life but now that the time had come? They were scared. They would be leaving their family behind for months while they searched for a solution to save the city. Never before had a living soul managed to cross the Heralding Storm in the last six-hundred years, its furious magic destroying any who dared to venture into it. But now, desperation to survive was driving them into the throngs of the deadly Storm, the beast within Urbmare much more feared than anything the weather could threaten. But this did nothing to assuage Sapione Damadius' fears.

Grimm stirred Riley from their own personal storm of thoughts, "We're all goin' t' miss our families. But we'll have each other on the sea. Maybe the company'll... keep us distracted." He nodded once with a gruff of self-validation. Sapione Damadius laughed once. Grimm was one of the crew members of the Nautica, chosen for this voyage because of his skill as a doctor and surgeon- the second best of the doctors left in the city. He was a gentle giant, tall and bulky with gray skin. His orcish features were especially prominent with a voice to match, but the man had a heart of gold. His encouraging personality attracted people and put them at ease, perfect for even the most fearful of patients.

"Say, Sap- Spea- Damas-... mind if I call ye Riley? Great. Say, Riley, have ye met the rest o' the crew yet?" At the confused shaking of Riley's head, Grimm dragged them off towards the closest tavern. It was here that they met their soon-to-be best friend.

* * *

Riley awoke to the sun scorching into their skin, squinting against the bright light as they opened their eyes. As consciousness returned, they noticed that the ground beneath them was rocking rhythmically. They could not move, their arms and legs restrained. As this registered in their mind, the fiend's head snapped to attention- finding themself tied to the mast of a ship, bound in chains that dug painfully into their skin. Fear ripped through their arms, heart palpitating roughly as realization settled in.

The top deck of the ship was covered in sailors, each of them wearing matching armor that was as black as the night sky, speckled with white coloration that completed the illusion. Riley could not put an identity to these sailors, not remembering anything from their studies about any nations who used black armor. They struggled once before falling still, looking out over towards the water. The island was quickly fading into the horizon as the sea vessel glided away from it, wind aiding it in the feat. On the starboard side, another mass of land was coming into view over the horizon. A mix of fear and exhaustion clouded their mind, unable to discern where the vessel was headed.

As the island faded into the endless curvature of the planet, too left behind was something that would change everything. Little did Riley and Kitty know, they were not the only survivors of Nautica's sinking. All it took was a single, sudden, and selfless act to change the course of fate. As the mysterious ship sailed off to the west, the afternoon tide on the island lowered once more. Beneath the receding waters lay the remains of a storm-beaten wooden lifeboat. By the looks of it, it had been exposed to the tides for nearly a week now. The mark of its mother ship was missing, with no sign of the lives that rode it into safety.


	3. Broken Chains and Splintering Dreams

A warm hand jolted Riley from the entrapment of their worries, bringing them back to the present. A tug of the chains signaled to Riley that this was Kitty's doing, the elemental having woken up as well. They breathed a sigh of relief, gently tugging at the restraints in turn. Soaking in the comfort that Kitty was still alive, they let their shoulders relax slightly. It lasted only for a moment however, as the angry head of reality rammed its horns into their thoughts, snapping them back into its tight grasp. 'They can't know we're awake.' With a shaking sigh they let their head fall forward once again with their eyes closed, pretending as though they were still unconscious. Riley had no interest in finding out what would happen if their captors realized that they had awoken.

"General! Whaddya reckon we do to 'em if they er... wake up?" a heavy voice spoke as footsteps trudged closer to the mast, an unfamiliar drawl manifesting in each of their words. The voice was strident and spoke like an avalanche- their words escaping at all at once until the end, the dust taking so much time to settle that you had no idea when the air would clear. Riley held back a flinch and a gasp of breath as they felt the familiar sharp scratch of a knife against skin. The metal blade scraped the surface, threatening to draw blood but never cutting into the soft flesh.

A moment later the knife seemed as dull as a finger as a sharper voice sliced through the air. This was more feminine, more terrifying. Something about her words sent unwilling shivers through Riley's spine and into the core of their being. Whoever this was, she was dangerous. Deadly even. Her voice held a similarly frightening power to Captain Moyeaux yet, where the deceased captain's words instilled confidence and determination, these imbued fear. "Keep that knife away from the Devil-Marked. Keep 'em pretty and they'll sell fer more. The soldiers're always lookin' for a cute li'l elemental to keep 'em company too." she spoke in a lilting tune, a sense of faux-friendliness to it that echoed in the first man's voice.

'Damn racists.' The thought briefly crossed the fiend's mind. They listened to the two intently, taking a mental note of their accents. If the captors spoke similarly, that meant they were from the same place- maybe that could cue in to where they were headed. Much to Riley's relief, the knife was immediately taken away from their skin at the order. Footsteps began to walk a distance from the mast, the voices now quieter as they were muted by the rumble of the sea that surrounded the strange ship. They could only pick up parts of the conversation now. Children. It was something about finding two children, though something told Riley that they were not searching for their own. Then a word that made their heart sink to the deepest depths of the ocean.

Slaves.

Panic filled Riley's chest as realization dawned on them, unable to help it as they began to fight against the chains that bound them to the wooden mast. Traffickers. This eerie crew was in the business of selling people. At the feeling of the chain tightening, Kitty now struggled in tandem- the two hostages quickly catching the attention of the sailors. Riley's eyes snapped open as they heard the sound of heavy boots. Walking towards them was a large man, clad in the same black armor as the rest of the crew. A bandanna held his hair back, a white handlebar mustache hanging from his top lip.

The fiend's eyes widened as he came closer, irrational fear gripping their body in a frozen embrace. They were afraid of what this man was going to do to them despite the captain's orders. But even though this ship's crew were of the most foul occupation, a captain's word was law; one that only the most foolish would break. The sailor reached out and gripped Riley's chin roughly. A whimper escaped the terrified fiend as they stared into the man's eyes, breath bated as a simple command was uttered from the captor's lips.

"Sleep."

As the word was spoken, Riley suddenly felt their limbs relaxing into a deep sleep, as if a hidden specter had sapped their energy away at the utterance. Their head fell forward as sleep consumed the awareness of their mind, their previous struggle vanishing in a moment. The sailor, satisfied with himself, nodded once before moving to the other side of the mast. He carried out the same ritual with Kitty, sending her off to a world of her own making.

* * *

Her hair was made of fire, rising up towards the ceiling of the fishy tavern. Her skin was as red as the moon during a total eclipse- although unlike the moon she gave off an extreme heat as if she were the sun. Eyes the color of charcoal regarded the newest arrival with kindness, an almost motherly look about them. With a voice that was as gentle and cautious as a young deer regarding an unfamiliar flower, she spoke, "Grimm, I see ye've brought some fresh blood," She smiled brightly, a thick veil of extraversion about her, "And who might ye be?"

"O-oh um. Me name is Sapione Damadius but I think yer friend called me ah.. Riley?" Their voice wavered a bit as they struggled to find the right words, glancing to Grimm for help.

Their compatriot let out a hearty laugh before clapping the fiend on the back, "This here is Riley. They're our navigator fer Nautica and we be dependin' on 'em t' guide us through the Heralding Storm."

The woman smiled and held out a confident hand, shaking Riley's own nervous one, "The name's Pyre, but Grimm here calls me Kitty. Charmed t' meet ye." The navigator nodded their head, quickly pulling their hand back to their side. Gratefulness rested their anxious soul- their lack of irises made it impossible for people to know where they were looking. A self-scolding sigh escaped their lips at their behavior, never good with first impressions.

Pyre's voice was light and genuinely curious as she spoke, "So how did ye get roped in with this mess?"

Riley let out a single laugh, shrugging as they sat down at the table, Grimm going off to the bar counter to get a round of shots. They pondered the question for a moment before answering, "Oh, y'know how 't is. Been here me whole life, thought 't was high time t'get off o' this floatin' dinghy..." Their voice trailed off a bit, putting up a toothy smile that easily gave away their true thoughts. Anyone who saw it could tell that Riley truly cared about the city and their family.

Kitty nodded slowly as she listened, a playful smile on her lips, "Well that is interestin'. This is the only home I've ever known too. I hate t' see it sufferin'. Hopefully our captain'll know where t' go t' save 'em." Riley ducked their head a bit in shame, silently cursing themself for not being more truthful right off the bat. Before the fiend could destroy the conversation any further, Grimm returned with a round of shots.

The doctor picked one up, voice raising so the entire tavern could hear him as he raised his shot into the air, "T' Urbmare!"

"T' Urbmare!" An echoing cry came from the rest of the patrons, many of whom were other members of Nautica's crew. The trio downed their shots, Riley letting the warmth in their chest calm their anxious heart. Perhaps this would not be as bad as they feared.

* * *

Dylryr leaned back with a satisfied smirk, watching the two prisoners fall limp against the mast. 'There,' he thought to himself, 'Now they won't be a problem fer us.' He cleared his throat before turning and sauntering towards the stern of the ship, whistling, "Hey, Cap! I done took care of 'em!"

Captain Akith looked over the wheel from where she stood on the quarterdeck. Her eyes were sharp, her voice swooping with feigned friendliness, "My title is Captain Akith, First Mate Dylryr, and you will address me as such." Dylryr said nothing in response but duly noted the tone of her voice, easily able to discern the threat in it.

"It's a shame we hafta keep 'em so purdy. We all know that once the clan gets their hands on 'em, the looks'll be the first to go. 'Specially fer the deviled ones." He stared at the sleeping prisoner with an expression that could have been mistaken for yearning at first glance, as though he wanted one for himself. Captain Akith rolled her eyes, jaw clamped shut as she denied the man any acknowledgement - yet that did not seem to matter as he continued on. "Y'know Cap'n, we been doin' this fer quite some time now, but I reckon we ain't ever seen clothin' like these here prisoners wear. You think they're... from anotha' world?" His voice took on a conspiratorial tone, scratching his chin in thought.

Captain Akith snapped at the First Mate, the features of her masculine face seeming to shift a bit in the light until she began to more resemble a boar rather than a human. The growl of warning that escaped her throat fell upon deaf ears as the sailor droned on, trying to identify the origin of the prisoners. Annoyance and anger grew heavy in the captain's stomach unbeknownst to the man, whose lengthy speech was suddenly cut short as his head dropped onto the deck with a fleshy thud. The Captain stared as the body crumpled separately from the head, blood gushing from the severance. She wiped a long blade on the pants of her armor before pointing at the body with the dagger for emphasis, voice ringing out, "Let's learn from Mister Dylryr here. We ain't here t'ask questions. What we've captured are objects, ones with no history and no names. No feelings. 'N most of all, no importance. Know your places. And you-" she pointed at an elderly sailor, the pieces of his armor clanking together as he shook in fear, "Clean this here mess."

He scrambled to dispose of the former first mate, the rest of the crew going back to their duties without even a glance towards the unconscious prisoners. Captain Akith settled back, her face morphing into its former human state as she cooly watched the sea. Even though Dylryr had made a good point, it was about the power Akith held over the crew. If she let the crew take the time to wonder about every prisoner captured, they would start to question other things. It was a dangerous pastime, to question one's world.

Still, it was curious as to their clothing. Every country has its own style of clothing that natives were expected to wear to show their heritage. Even the most isolated of hermits bore the clothes of their native country. If not the clothing, then one would wear a visible crest or marking to show where they hailed from. Heritage and history was a matter of pride in this world. Home was what created a person, and it was a universal expectation to acknowledge that past through the use of clothing- even an accessory of sorts would do. These prisoners however, wore nothing of that sort. Their clothes were unlabeled and unmarked, something that Captain Akith had never seen before. They seemed to take clothes from several national styles, no single type able to be visually pinned down.

* * *

Hours passed, the sun beginning its afternoon descent across a blue sky speckled with clouds, remnants of the storm that now moved its way up the coast. The docks were noisy with activity as cargo ships released their shipments to the dock workers. Imports from other nations made up most of the work at the Northern Docks, as it was the closest port to Illian City with a two day's travel. Its locational prestige was displayed through its appearance- the docks and the surrounding town were freshly built of dark pine wood, with bronze fixings and gold trim embellishing it. Citizens and guests alike made themselves known on the docks, strutting in fashionable and wealthy attire among the working sailors. Music drifted along the pier as a lively band played enthusiastic ballads for all to hear.

As the criminal ship pulled closer to the docks, the Captain gave her orders to the crew to prepare for the docking of the ship. Two sailors walked over to the retrained prisoners, carrying a wooden shipping crate between them. Setting it down on the deck, they lifted the lid to reveal steel plates lining the inside of the box. It was the perfect device to transport the captives- the steel would keep Kitty's fire from burning the wood on the inside and outside, it would look like every other box of cargo.

One of the sailors moved over to the chains, lifting the lock to unravel the chains- only to find it melted into a pile of lumpy metal. Not a moment was granted to process the situation before a reddish hand shot out at the sailor in an attempt to grab them. The chains rattled to the deck with an alarming raucous.

Kitty had been the first to come back to the waking world, shaking off the pesky cling of forced sleepiness. She had kept still to avoid being detected, but was shocked that none of the crew were bothering to check on them. Immediately she knew the opportunity at hand. Head down, she felt her way along the chains until she found the lock. With a deep breath, she channeled the fires inside her soul towards her hand, heating the metal that rested in her palms. After several minutes, the wood of the mast and the chains near her hand were charred and burning. The lock had been reduced to a bright-orange mess, metal droplets splattering onto the deck.

She held it tightly in her hand as she pulled the suffocating heat away, just in time for Riley to regain their consciousness. Kitty lightly tugged at the chain to signal to Riley what was going on, the heat of the metal helping them to realize the situation. Although unable to communicate verbally, the two of them had similar plans. The first step was to escape the ship, and the second was to run like hell into the nearby town. Execution of these steps however, was hardly in the same realm.

While both captives had the same goal in mind, Kitty had mentally chosen to opt for the quick and discreet. Get off and away from the ship without attracting too much attention. That way, there would be no issues with authority and there was less of a chance for innocent bystanders to get injured. Riley however, like in many things they did, felt the need to cause a flashy distraction to take the attention off of themselves. Or in this case, destruction was the more likely contender.

A red and fiery fist aims for its mark-grabbed by the hand of the sailor. They haul Kitty into a choke-hold, ignoring the ember-like skin and hair of pure fire. Riley lugs a punch into another sailor's diaphragm- their wrist nearly getting caught. They side-step the sailor as he falls, Riley sprinting across the deck of the ship towards the gangplank. Other crew mates on the ship took notice of the scene and with weapons drawn, encircled the escaped fiend. Riley's gaze darted about, searching for a way to escape.

Surrounded.

Trapped.

There was only one option left.

A dark hand strikes out towards the deck as an ancient incantation is shouted through Riley's lips; their eyes no longer glowing a gentle blue, but bright with a devilish luminescence that could only be found in the fires of hell. A bright streak of light escaped from their fingers, moving like a flash of lightning in a ferocious storm. The light coalesced into a glowing ball at the center of the ship. It swirled in pause before growing and rising into the sky like a beast that had been imprisoned for eons, consuming the ship in a blast of flame that reached hungrily for everything it could grasp.

Riley turned and ran for the ship's railing, hellfire chasing after them eagerly. They gripped the railing, throwing themself over the side of the ship and down into the waters below. Screams of agony shrieked from the ship as the inferno gripped the crew in its daggered clutches, tearing into them like a predator to its prey. Frigid water surrounded the fiend in an unfortunately familiar embrace, trying to pull Riley below the tide. They fought for their life against the current, swimming to the dock and gripping onto the sea-sodden wood. Barnacles and sea debris cut into their fingers as they clutched it, wincing at the pain. Reaching up, the fiend hauling themself weakly up from the water. Climbing onto the docks, they could hardly get their bearings before they felt a heavy object collide with their head, vision going dark.

Kitty screamed as the magical fires encompassed her body, the sailor restraining her falling to the deck in agony as they were burned alive, charring quickly. Fortunately made of a similar fire, Kitty was not nearly as scathed. Burns buried themselves into her skin as she sprinted towards the mast. The wood was blackening under the oppressive heat of the fireball, the chains lying at the foot of the mast. She grabbed the heated links, sprinting to the railing. With expert skill she wrapped the edge of the chain to the railing, gripping the other end and jumping over.

She swung to the docks below, her legs refusing to still as she hit the ground running. Eyes darting around wildly, she searched for Riley as she wove around the crowd of people that had gathered. Dock workers had now stopped their labor, rushing towards the burning vessel. Some began to cast spells and others used non magical tools in an effort to either extinguish the fire or prevent it from spreading to the wooden docks below. The chaos of it all was slowing Kitty in her escape- it was almost too crowded to move at all. The elemental needed to find Riley before it was too late, but it was not until she managed to escape the crowd that she witnessed it.

A group of what looked to be doctors were dragging Riley off of the docks, the devilish fiend's hair matted with blood. With a relieved gasp, Kitty dashed over to the cartel to meet her friend. As she approached the group, she moved to give them her thanks- only for two of the people to break off from the others and come towards her. Confusion crossed her features at the determined looks in their eyes. One of the people, eyes solid black, extended their hand towards Kitty in a stopping gesture. They began to growl an incantation under their breath, and invisible force stopping the elemental in her tracks. The second figure walked over calmly, a bloodied club in hand. The buyers had been waiting on the docks, watching as the ship caught fire and began its descent to the bottom of the harbor.

Before her vision went dark, the last thing Kitty saw was the swing of the bloodied weapon coming towards her. Along with it were her dreams of saving Urbmare, shattering like a glass vase fallen to the ground.


	4. Imprisoned

A pounding headache echoed into Riley's unconscious, waking them from their painless sleep. They attempted to bring their hands to their head, only to themself restrained to the ground. Iron shackles painfully bound their wrists together, held to the ground by a thick and sturdy chain. Riley struggled into a sitting position, eyes moving about in horror as they found themself trapped in a dark and dirtied cell. Their clothes had been taken, replaced by a simple sack shirt and tattered shorts- leaving the fiend with the horrible feeling of being exposed. The shirt was scarred with a dark stain that covered the front of it yet, in the near pitch black room they could not discern the cause of the stain.

It took a long moment of processing before a frightening realization dawned on them. Kitty. She wasn't in the cell- hell, Riley was completely alone as far as they could tell. Adrenaline coursed through their veins as they began to yank at their restraints. Their voice quickly grew hoarse as they shouted for Kitty, desperation deepening in every syllable. She was nowhere to be seen, the only other cell Riley could make out seeming to be entirely empty. Not even the telltale glow of her hair could be found, Riley starting to fear the worst. 'Is she hurt? Was she killed in the fire? Is she here too?' Their breathing became labored and panicked. Kitty was the only person they had left off of Urbmare, they couldn't be alone- it was something they had never known before and frankly, were not prepared to experience.

Sheer fear kept the fiend awake, sitting in the corner of their cell in stunned silence until the first morning rays of the sun shone in the musty cell. The light was dulled by grimy windows, iron bars welded over the thick glass that only emphasized the cell's dirtiness. As soon as light began to illuminate the cell, a guard appeared before Riley's cell with a thick scroll in hand. She had pale skin and dark hair, her muscles accentuating broad shoulders. Her armor was made of scales that resembled the colors of ancient tomes- a mosaic of deep reds and browns. On the breastplate was engraved a universal crest that made Riley's heart pound like that of a war drum. The intricate swirls of a dragon clutching a shield in its mighty claws stared out at Riley. They couldn't help a tinge of betrayal as the Mark of Illian silently condemned them.

The guard sighed in boredom, as if she were about to do paperwork on a fine spring's day rather than confronting a strange and disoriented prisoner. A quill scratched on the parchment as she cleared her throat, the same accent from the mysterious ship coming from her lips. "Prisoner eight-sixteen. Devil-marked in appearance. Four horns. Symmetrical. Dark Skin. Average in stature. Lean. Picked up from an unnamed island by the crew of Captain A." The guard seemed to be talking out loud to herself, paying no actual attention to Riley. After making a mark on the scroll, she rolled it back up and tucked it away before grabbing a key ring.

Sorting through a series of keys she picked one out, unlocking the cell door and swinging it open easily. She moved over, unlocking the chains and picking up the loose end of it like a leash, Riley the unfortunate victim at the other end of it. "Let's go, Devil-Marked." The guard yanked the chain, forcing Riley shakily to their feet. Their tail wrapped itself around their ankle, the tip of it twitching anxiously. She held the chain in a tight fist, practically dragging Riley down the corridor.

The fiend struggled, trying to pull against the chain, "Wh-where are we goin'-"

"Silence!" The guard snapped, spinning around and landing a swift kick to Riley's ribs. With a shout they fell to the ground coughing, curling into their side with pain. The guard's voice dripped with venom and malice as she spoke at Riley, dark hair falling in front of her face, "Now just because yer ancestors fucked the Dark Lords doesn't mean ya get to disrespect me, Hornhead. You'll go wherever I tell you until someone decides they actually have a use for a Devil-marked. Now, get up." She pulled the chain again, Riley rising to their feet slowly. The pounding in their skull nearly deafened them, making it difficult to focus properly.

The guard gave a smug smile before moving down the dark corridor, pulling the fiend along with her. After a few moments they approached the end of the hall. She pulled her keys out once more and unlocked a heavy steel door, pushing it open and shoving Riley inside.

A single torch in the corner of a small room acted as the only source of light, the deprecated place otherwise pitch-dark. In the middle of the room was a metal table and stool, the table fastened firmly into the ground with bolts. Riley stared at it with wide eyes, shaking in a way that made their chains scrape against one another in quivering melody. Holding their chains firmly, the guard pulled Riley to the table and fastened the last link of their makeshift leash to a steel contraption at the head of the flat table. She gave a command for Riley to get on the table, the frightened fiend listening hesitantly; too weak to fight back and too scared to try.

Giving a humiliating snicker, the guard fastened their ankles to the table with metal shackles before turning and leaving the room. Closing it shut behind her, Riley was left in silence save for the sound of the crackling torch fire. Their heart beat like the deep thrums of a timpani and it was as if their chest were concealing the panic of a wild bird. Furious wings beat at their rib cage, a pointed beak stabbing fearfully at their heart as it cried out for freedom. Sweat formed on the ridge of the fiend's brow as they fought to keep the feathered beast within, the labor of the task shortening each necessary breath.

It was several minutes before the door opened once again, two guards filing into the small room. Positioning themselves on either side of the door, a man in a long, brown cloak with loose sleeves entered. He wore a mask with a leather beak, the strange obtrusion curling slightly upwards towards the ceiling. Thick gloves of black leather obscured his hands as he shuffled over towards the fiend. Riley's eyes widened as they took sight of the deathly figure, unable to help the sense of foreboding that nearly suffocated them.

The doctor approached Riley, speaking in a foreign language that was muffled by the fowled mask. One of the guards retrieved a scroll from their back pocket, writing down everything the man said. As he relayed information to the guard, he checked over Riley's body. Gloved fingers dug through the fiend's hair and horns, Riley wincing as he poked and prodded at the bloodied wound on their skull. Once their headache returned tenfold, the doctor moved to their horns. His hands thoroughly felt every ridge of Riley's four horns, inspecting them for any cracks, scratches, or scars. It felt as though Riley was being evaluated like a newly acquired object, their physical person being looked over for any defects. The impersonal doctor held no regard for any pain or discomfort he happened to inflict on his decorations.

Satisfied with the evaluation thus far, the man moved onto Riley's arms. He carefully searched the fiend's dark skin, squeezing and flicking at their bicep until it began to lightly bruise. The irritation only ceased when Riley winced it pain, the doctor speaking over his shoulder to the guard once more before moving on. Riley squeezed their eyes shut as they endured the tormenting experience, teeth gritting in a vain attempt to ignore it.

There was a moment of silence as the doctor turned Riley's arm in the chains to inspect their forearm, his strange words suddenly taking on a tone of what Riley assumed was tensity. To Riley's momentary relief, the doctor pulled away from the physical inspection, calling out over his shoulder to the second guard. They listened to the doctor's words before turning and opening the door, quickly slipping out of the room.

Riley's eyes opened tentatively, looking over at the doctor with their directionless gaze, pearled white colored orange by the firelight. Turning back to the fiend, the doctor spoke through his mask. His voice was gravelly and thickly accented as he spoke in a language Riley could understand; a series of growls and clicks that formed Riley's native tongue. It was one that typically only fiends learned, a secretive language that was only taught by other fiends. They listened closely, trying to discern the words from beneath the muffling mask. As the words were spoken, they paled as dread flooded their veins, "May your Master of Death protect you now."

Confusion overpowered the panic as Riley fell still, brows furrowing at the doctor. 'What the hell did that mean?' Before they could ponder it further, a woman entered the room. She was clothed in a short cloak and dark pants, wearing the skull of a large bird over her face. The bone was stained with old blood, two blue eyes peering through the eye sockets. Although short in stature the woman was muscular and visibly strong, a great axe made of bone strapped to her back that only contributed to her terrifying demeanor.

As she entered, the second guard returned to their post. Everyone in the room aside from Riley looked visibly more relaxed and secure in the presence of this woman. She walked firmly over to the fiend, the femininity of her voice filling them with a false sense of security even as their dread grew, "Do you speak the common language?" Her words were in the same growling language as the doctor, Riley nodding fearfully.

The woman stood next to the table, just out of reach of the doctor and an arm's length away from the table. Immediately she began to speak in the tongue that Riley was more accustomed to hearing, "Why do you bear the name of Zoavist on your skin?" Although phrased in a question, she spoke it in the same way a demand was given.

In a trembling voice Riley answered, "I-I found it carved on a tree- somebody died a-an' I found it with their bones-" The woman interrupted them, speaking to the guard and doctor in the same language from before.

She waited for a response before turning, speaking in a clear voice as she made sure to enunciate each word, "Do you have any scars?"

"Uh- Aye. I 'ave one o-on me leg from when I was a-a kid." Riley gestured with their head, feeling a nauseating mix of confusion and nervousness.

The woman spoke at the doctor before nodding her head, the man moving dutifully to Riley's legs and giving them a once over. On the side of Riley's calf was a long, faded scar, the doctor pointing it out with one of his gloved hands. The woman spoke once again before turning and walking out of the room, the doctor continuing his physical examination as commanded. The fiend tensed up once again, unable to help but wonder what the situation was about. 'Who is Zoavist? Why did she ask about me scars?' Thankfully, their mental inquiry only served to distract them from the prodding hands of the doctor.

* * *

Cool wind blew through the flames of her hair as she stared over the vast sea before her, standing on the docks near the Nautica. It was nearly time to embark, the last touches of the massive vessel nearly finished. Pyre stood with her hands loosely at her side, unable to help the butterflies that filled her chest. She would finally see what the rest of the world was like, a dream of hers she had had since she was young. To see the different kinds of people. To live in a world that was not constantly buried under the surveillance of an eternal storm.

At the same time, her nerves were fraying bit by bit every day. The crew had finally been chosen in its entirety, and today was the day the ship would set sail on its maiden voyage. The elemental felt the warmth of satisfaction in her stomach as she sat down on the edge of the dock, her legs hanging over the side and towards the water. Her fingers rubbed against the billowy shirt she donned, feeling the thick fabric against her thumb as she let herself fall into deep thought. The council, a group of elders whose jobs were to oversee the entire island, had decided that the sailors would not wear the mark of Urbmare lest they run into pirates on the sea.

Pyre felt this decision to be strange but knew better than to question the council. Despite being elders they were all proven to be sound of mind and it was best to leave decisions to them. Their experience spoke for all of their decisions, a tool that was especially useful in a situation as dire as this one. Even then, it made no sense to her that Nautica's sailors be unmarked. 'Would the crest o' Urbmare not be helpful fer when we find help? T' prove our validity?' She sighed as she leaned back, looking up towards the clouds.

She had been found at the edges of the city by the Captain, who introduced herself as Captain Mary Moyeaux, and was chosen to fulfill the role of the ship's boatswain. Pyre would be in charge of the equipment stored in the ship's hull to ensure proper distribution of resources. Looking back she felt the same warmth of honor that bloomed in her chest as she did the day she met the wonderful Captain.

Heavy weaponry hung from the ceiling and walls of her workshop, all of the metalwork crafted from Pyre's own hands. They intricately carved and formed, the insignia of Urbmare burned into the blades of each weapon. Great, feathery wings of a falcon were pointed up into a circle, the curved beak of the sharp bird carrying a lightning bolt. The walls of the workshop were made of clay and thatch, darkened by years of smoke and fire. Above, the ceiling was domed; a skylight rested at the peak where the forge's smoke was able to escape easily.

Pyre had been dressed in thick, leather work-wear- gear that had been stiffened by the constant heat from her skin and the nearby forge. She threw another log into the burning forge before using the poker to adjust the red-hot embers. Sparks flew out towards the elemental, extinguishing in the cooling air. Footsteps came from the entrance to the shop, stilling before slowly wandering around. From sound alone Pyre could tell this guest was perusing the shelves; slow steps that clicked with the heel of the shoe and ended with the toe.

A crossbow was lifted from the wall by a woman, her bronze scales glittering in the firelight. Slitted green eyes regarded the weapon from beneath a wide-brimmed hat that was topped with an elegant feather. She exuded confidence as she spoke, the 's's of her words emphasized by her forked tongue, "How many of these do ye have?" Clawed hands carefully scraped over the metal bow, nails clicking against the decorative divots lightly.

Turning from where she had been stoking the fire, Pyre turned with a dusting of her hands. Ash floated to the floor as she regarded the woman with friendly yet inquisitive eyes, hardly allowing time to pass between them as she answered, "Six. Shoot around fifty meters. Ye interested?"

"Perhaps." The woman rehung the crossbow onto its display before turning and casually wandering over to a set of shelves. They were lined with various types of knives, knuckles, and gauntlets that reflected the woman's reptilian personage. She picked up a single dagger from the shelf, inspecting it closely before muttering, "How many daggers with a jagged blade?"

"Thirteen."

"Did ye know one o' 'em has a chip 'n the handle?" The woman held up the dagger, each spike of its blade glinting in the light, her hand obscuring the handle.

Pyre peered at it for a moment before shaking her head, organizing the tools on her worktable, "Nay, that isn't one o' me own. I forge with iron, not steel. Whoever's dagger it is, that's not me craftsmanship."

"Are ye sure? This is yer store, nay?"

"Aye, it's me store. But me blades," She walked over, picking up another dagger and holding it up for the woman to see, "'ave me marker on it. An' the metal is lighter than the one yer holdin'."

The woman let out an impressed chuckle, tucking the dagger back into her pocket before crossing her arms, "Interestin' that ye use iron an' not steel. It's much stronger than iron."

Pyre sighed softly, "Iron cracks more easily in the cold. Iron is purer," Her eyes narrowed as she settled a hand on her hip, palm resting against the top of her work belt, "What's yer aim?"

"Well. You're observant and you know your stock. I like that." The woman held her hand out to Pyre, a smile drawn in a dragon-like curve on her lips, "M name is Captain Mary Moyeaux, and I would like ye t' be part o' Nautica's crew."

* * *

She felt suffocated. A burlap sack had been strapped over her head, occasionally poured over with cold water to keep her hair extinguished. A hand pushed her forward, her bound hands making her stumble as she lost balance. There was nothing to be seen through the cloth of the sack, the unknown surroundings only serving to terrify the elemental further. She heard the creak of a door opening, the drag of metal against the floor. The smell of filth penetrated the wet sack. Another shove. The heavy jingle of metal keys. A gruff voice commanding her to get in.

The sack is taken off her head, hands still bound as she is prodded by the guard to move. She remained unmoving, wide eyes taking in the room around her like a deer in the carnal aftermath of a forest fire. Decrepit cages filled the dark room, stacked neatly upon one another. In each of them lay a prisoner, each cell the same size no matter the size of the prisoner. Some were far too small for their cells, others touching the bars on all sides. A young dragonborn cowers in the corner of their cage, whimpering in a way that sounded like a feral growl of fright. Kitty stared in pained sympathy, heart breaking at the sight of such a young child in a place like this.

She was quickly brought back to her own situation as another bucket of cold water was dumped over her head, the elemental crying out as it stung her skin painfully. The gruff voice spoke again- belonging to an orcish guard clad in dusty scaled armor, "Get in. Now." Kitty stayed still, considering her options for a moment too long. Grabbing the scruff of her shirt, the guard shoved the woman into the cage before locking it shut. She fell into the cage with a grunt. As the door locked shut she spun, grabbing one of the bars and shaking it furiously, "No!" she cried out, "No! Riley, I'll find you and get you out of here, I swear! Riley!"

"You won't get out. Not unless you're dead." A voice whispered from the cage to her right, the 'R's of their words rolling, speaking as though they could barely move their jaw. Kitty turned her head to the left as she shifted inside the tiny cage. A young water elemental looked at Kitty, their face shrunken and blue skin pale. Their hair was black and stringy, unwashed and unkempt. Eyes that once must have been the color of sapphires had lightened to a faded blue, forcing Kitty to ponder how long this person had been in this dark cage. She nearly broke into tears at the sight, for it was common knowledge that water elementals needed to reside near or in water. Drying out was a death sentence.

The shell-shocked Kitty's attention was redirected as another voice on the opposite wall spoke, ""It's true. You even think about escapin' and that guards'll execute you in a heartbeat."

"They did it to a guy last week!" A hushed whisper from the corner of the cages.

Kitty breath shakily, speaking as quietly as she could without alerting anybody who could be listening, "What are we doin' here?" Her answer was given in fragments by different prisoners. At the end of it she managed to piece together a story. By the standards of the Illian Empire, those with physical traits reminiscent of dragons or those elements controlled by dragons were considered to be the most attractive. Everyone here had been kidnapped by the same group of people, all of them to be tortured into compliance. Once they were obedient to their captors, they would be sold to Illianic noble families as servants. It didn't matter the age, sex, or gender. What was important was the physical characteristics of each prisoner.

The only exception to these standards of beauty were that of the fiends. Although their horns give them a draconic appearance, their reputation and family histories make them unwanted by buyers in most cases. Most. None of these prisoners knew what happened to prisoners who did not meet these requirements.

Kitty couldn't help the shudder that scraped down her spine, disgusted at the absurd amount of prejudice that was buried in this practice. She hardly knew where to start asking questions. After a long moment, she finally murmured, "So this is the Illian Army doing this?"

"No." Said a grave voice, its timbre sounding like the creaking of a door to an abandoned cottage in the deepest areas of a barren wasteland. A silvery snout pushed through two bars of a cage, "Whoever these guards are, they do not serve Illian. We pride ourselves in the shine and purity of our armor. When you next see a guard, regard him, for the armor is dusty and the scales discolored. No true soldier of Illian would be seen in such disarray and filth." A silence filled the room, nobody was sure as to how they should react to such a display.

After a moment, the young elemental child retorted as if the gods themselves had given them a spark of otherworldly indifference, "Okay Boomer."

Kitty couldn't help the amused snicker that crept upon her lips. The snout's owner fell into an offended babble, trying to find a comeback in this moment of humiliation. It was a full minute before he found the words to portray exactly what he wanted to say to the child. He opened his snout once more to speak, only to be silenced as the door to the cramped room swung open.

A woman stood in the doorway, holding a giant great axe in one hand. The room fell into a deathly silence, the bird-like face staring at the prisoners with empty eyes. She slowly walked into the room, her great axe dragging behind her along the floor. Kitty cringed at the sound of it- not from the fear of the weapon but the knowledge that with each hit against the bars, the great axe's blade was being ruined. The frightening woman took her time, taking a sick pleasure in the whimpers she elicited each time she stopped in front of a cage. She spoke slowly, making sure to enunciate every single word, "Listen to me when I speak. All of you are in here because you are weak, but we can help you get stronger. If you listen to everything we teach, you will become strong like us!"

Nobody answered the woman's words as she continued to walk past each cage, looking at each prisoner in the same way a person looks at clothes in a market stall. It was nearly ten minutes of this before she finally took her leave. All the while the blade of her axe had been dragging along the stone floor, Kitty unable to help the pit of nausea that formed in her stomach at the sound.

She let out a breath of relief as the woman left, waiting a moment to make sure nobody would come back through the door before turning back to the younger elemental. Her voice was hardly a whisper, "What's yer name?"

"Ripple. I ran away from my nation and got taken." Their voice was hoarse from lack of use, it difficult to understand every word.

Kitty nodded softly, "'M sorry t' hear that. Me name is Kitty. Do ye 'ave any friends or family, Ripple?"

They gave a curt nod, large eyes staring hard into the ground. "Yes. My mother and siblings. My only friend was named Splish, " a pause before they spoke even softer, "I miss them all."

The fiery woman gave a thoughtful nod, looking wistful, "I don't have any family, but me best friend has the silliest name. Wanna hear it?" After the teen nodded, Kitty smiled, "Their name is Sapione Damadius, can ye believe that?" Ripple gave a weak smile, a single, soft chuckle leaving their chest as they leaned against the bars of their cage. Kitty gave a reassuring smile before shifting to look at the cage to her left. A golden dragonborn was shoved inside, curled into a tight and uncomfortable ball. The elemental murmured softly, the tips of her hair beginning to glow like embers as the strands heated once more, "How about ye?"

"Two daughters. A wife." She murmured in a deep and gravelly voice.

"They must be lovely," said Kitty.

"Oh very much so. The smartest women I've ever met. All so creative and powerful. Just like our ancestors on high." The dragonborn woman's features fell into yearning, curling into herself even tighter. Her arms wrapped around herself, holding herself comfortingly.

Kitty took a deep breath, letting it out slowly before murmuring, "I miss 'em, me friend. I would do anythin' t' see 'em again." She watched the floor, thinking for a second before nodding to herself, "I didn't 'ave much in the way o' friends before 'em. So I want t' do what it takes. Even if it means breakin' out o' here."

Another long silence permeated the air, Kitty's nerve nearly breaking until the dragonborn woman spoke, "You're right. If we don't fight back, I won't see my girls again until the afterlife. At least if I try, there's a chance to go home." She breathed out a quiet sob before snarling it away, falling back into a weary silence. Either from hope or fear, Kitty was unable to tell.


End file.
